


postscripts on post its

by Crimsoncat



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Angst, F/F, Missing Scene, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 23:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12828726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimsoncat/pseuds/Crimsoncat
Summary: When Myka makes it home from Yellowstone she finds something unexpected waiting for her.





	postscripts on post its

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this to tumblr years ago, in response to another post. You can find it [here](https://crimsoncat21.tumblr.com/post/149918553011/abolynn-schwarzefarben-ps-so-bering) if you're interested.
> 
> I've been meaning to post this here for a very long time. Please forgive any lingering typos.

Myka closes her bedroom door and leans back against it. She has spent the past few days running around the world on pure willpower, and the exhaustion Myka has spent three days ignoring slams into her like a freight train. In that moment the solid oak door at her back is the only thing that is keeping her on her feet. She has showered and changed and showered and changed, and she still has Egyptian sands stuck in unmentionable places.

(Myka wonders if it will always be there. If she is stuck with the sand like she is stuck with this guilt, and the splinter in her heart that aches with each inhale.)

Legs trembling, Myka manages to step away from the stability of the door and further into her room. She wants to scream. She wants to break things. She wants to give in and release the sob that is sitting at the back of her throat (the one that makes it hard to breathe). But Myka knows if she starts screaming, if she starts sobbing, she won’t stop. So she swallows her rage and the despair that threatens to consume her, and she takes another step forward.

Myka collapses onto her bed and tries not to think about Helena. She refuses to remember the way the barrel of the gun felt pressed against her forehead, or how Helena’s finger had twitched against the trigger. Myka doesn’t want to replay the moment Helena walked past her, defeated and broken and still wearing the handcuffs Myka put on her at Yellowstone. (She tries not to think about Helena, and she fails miserably.)

Myka exhales loudly and digs the heels of her hands into her eyes. It isn’t until she sits up again that she notices the small piece of paper on her pillow. Light blue and covered in words Myka doesn’t want to read.

(Claudia had been the one to present Helena with the pack of post it notes. Hundreds of them, in all the colours of the rainbow. Helena’s eyes had lit up, and her smile had been bright enough to eclipse the sun. As if Claudia were giving her something precious, something to be treasured.

There were always post its after that. On the edges of computer screens, on the coffee machine, on Myka’s bedroom mirror. They would occasionally find them on the stairs, tracked in on the bottom of someone’s shoe. Some held notes on stories or inventions. Others were just simple messages. _Good morning, Darling._

Myka always smiled when she found them, regardless of what they said.

She isn’t smiling now.)

Myka reaches for the post it on her pillow and brushes her fingertips across the small blue square. She inhales deeply, draws on what little strength she has left, and picks it up to read it.

 

_P.S. I never told you, but I was falling in love._

 

(That is the moment that breaks her. Reading those simple words written in that familiar, slanting script.)

Myka wonders when Helena had time to leave this for her. She wonders if this post it has been sitting here the entire time. If Helena snuck in before they left for Egypt, and placed it here to be discovered in case the world didn’t end.

Something breaks inside Myka in that moment. Something shatters.

She absently wonders how many other ways Helena can find to hurt her.

Myka stands, carefully putting the post it back on her pillow before turning to get her suitcase out of the closet. She realizes that this is why she came to her room in the first place. Myka had known she wouldn’t be able to stay here, not after everything that has happened.

It doesn’t take long to pack the things that matter most. The rest, well. Myka doesn’t want to think about Pete and Claudia lingering in the doorway, inconsolable, while Leena boxes up the rest of her things to send to her. Myka doesn't want to think about Leena handling her things with the utmost of care, packing away her belongings and clearing out her room as if she had died. Instead, Myka opens her bedroom door and listens carefully. The house is quiet, and she takes a moment to be thankful that something has finally worked in her favour.

Myka grabs the letter she wrote off of her desk and reaches for the handle of her suitcase. She hesitates in the doorway, glancing back at the sky blue post it on her pillow.

She moves quickly, before she can think about it.

Myka slides the post it into the pocket of her vest and doesn’t let herself think of Helena carefully placing it on her pillow. Instead, she takes one last look around her room before grabbing her suitcase and heading down the stairs.


End file.
